


The Ballad of Nicholas Benjamin Johnson

by robertstanion



Series: SYPF Spin Off [2]
Category: Hatchetfield Universe - Team StarKid
Genre: Backstory, Descriptions of murder, Descriptions of suicide, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Suicide, TW:, The Apotheosis - Freeform, chapter 28 of sypf for reference, disclaimer: i dont excuse his actions, domestic abuse, in the eyes of a villain, it doesnt mean im like this irl, just because i wrote this, nicks pov, pure angst, pure evil character, thoughts of murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28677249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robertstanion/pseuds/robertstanion
Summary: Was he really a villain? When his own husband faked his own death in the most unnecessary way, and he was sought to bring justice to Hatchetfield, was he really the horrible person for wanting to show John what he’d done wrong? He couldn’t be the villain. There wasn’t any way in hell.
Relationships: Nick Johnson/John McNamara
Series: SYPF Spin Off [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2082423
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	The Ballad of Nicholas Benjamin Johnson

**Author's Note:**

> again, disclaimer: i do not support any of Nick's actions. I know I have to write as him to get the story across, but I am not like this. 
> 
> anyways hi i did have to write this for iywiyd so im posting this first before the chapter tomorrow-
> 
> for references: this is chapter 28 of Something You Pine For and follows up until Nick's last chapter featured. This doesn't involve or reference anything regarding The Angel Heaven Sent or The Loudest Become The Strong

Nicholas Benjamin Johnson was supposed to be a man of great spirits. A Scorpio born November 16th, 1982 with a thick head of black hair and the bluest of eyes that had scanned over Hatchetfield, Johnson proved from the very minute he walked on Hatchetfield’s earth that he wasn’t ever going to be someone to be messed with.

As an infant, he took interest in the wonders of the world. His father, Clyde Johnson, often told him stories about what he saw on the job. Though he wasn’t a cop, he worked very close to the station in a newsagent, where his mother, Beatrice, also worked. He’d tell Nick about the adventures he’d always see, about the crooks that’d be hauled into the centres with their wrists tied in metal. Nick’s eyes would always go wide at the thought of being able to save the world from the bad. From a very young age, he’d decided, no matter how, he would become a superhero and save Hatchetfield from any anomaly who wouldn’t confide to the rules.

At school, he became very popular. From the minute he was inside of the building, he had a swarm of friends. Hatchetfield Elementary didn’t offer the vastest array of people to befriend, and they were all very common. They were either blonde girls who convinced themselves that they were in love with him, or men interested in sports. Having so many friends bought him many advantages. By the time he was 11, he was an incredibly athletic man. He’d spend a lot of time down at the recreation ground with a few of his closest friends kicking a ball around. There wasn’t much to do for a man of his age in that time span, but he definitely didn’t have a worry in the world with his small group by his side. Even at 11 years old, they knew their worth.

Natasha Mitchells, the same age as him, was a run for his own money. She had a slim waste and a slim figure with flowing brunette hair. She had light, freckled skin and a pearly smile. She always wore clothes that’d hug her figure. Consequently, it led to her getting a lot of attention from other guys. One would expect she’d accept any offer at her feet, but she’d punch the majority of them in the face. It wasn’t as if she needed them.

Edward Kitak was another very close friend if Nick’s, and if he had to choose one of them, Edward was considered his best friend. The two often worked out in the gym together after school. Their dads had known each other before the two were born so honestly, it was no surprise that they’d get alone. They were both often mistaken for brothers, considering they were nearly identical. Aside from the fact that Nick’s family had been in America for generations and Edward’s hadn’t, having migrated from somewhere in Asia not too long ago. It didn’t really matter to them. They were brothers at heart.

Amber Saneson wasn’t like the others. She had bright pink hair and bangs that shaped her round face nicely. She wore dresses and petticoats and buckle up shoes. Her dark skin was always coated in some kind of makeup. She didn’t like to confide to the school dress code, and the only reason the hair colour rule was banned was because she often wrote essays against it, and eventually, to confirm her protest against a bullshit rule, she dyed her own hair the bright pink she wore and owned so well. She was definitely something.

Matthew Tren, like Nick, wanted to bring justice to Hatchetfield when he was older. He had soft brown waves on the top of his head and always had some sort of band tee on. He was a drummer in the school’s band, so if he wasn’t available, he’d more than likely be rehearsing for some gig. He aspired to bring joy to the world, and if that meant creating music for others to listen to, then he’d accept the offer.

They all went to Hatchetfield High together. Their families were each on the wealthier side meaning they could go to the more prestigious school that the island had offering. There, in their senior year, they were offered places. It was in his senior year where Nick had begun eyeing up a certain blonde-haired meek figure in the same year as him with stunning blue eyes and had begun debating his sexuality. Him and Matthew had gotten drunk not too long ago and both woke up naked, but they agreed nothing had happened and that ‘bros did this stuff all the time.’ Apparently, not everyone got a tightness in their chest when they looked at people of the same gender.

Even so, the group of five received an offer one day. While they were at school, they were called to a briefing room. They grabbed their bags and walked to the room where a few people sat in full black, aside from one woman who wore a white shirt, and another who wore a denim jacket instead. The man in the middle, someone with a light tan, gestured to the seats and clasped his hands again. His dark blonde hair was frizzed, yet somehow tame at the same time. It intrigued Nick, so he was the first to sit down.

The door closed, and the meeting began. “Kids, it became a part of my knowledge that you…you’re special.” He said and pointed to each and every one of them. “My name is General Gareth Icacks and I work for the United States Military. To my left is Colonel Hill, who serves as my direct assistant. To my right are my two star agents, Colonel Cross and Colonel Holloway. What I want is for you five to join my taskforce.”

Nick’s eyes widened and he laughed stubbornly, crossing his arms against his chest. “Trust me, sir. Whoever you are, _I’m_ not interested. I’d rather be a cop.”

“Trust me, buddy. Ya don’t.” The one in the denim, Holloway, spoke.

“You see, Nicholas…” Icacks continued, turning a sheet of paper around, sliding it towards him, before handing out another four sheets to his friends. “We got your essays sent to us by your principal. You all have amazing minds. You’re perfect for our job.”

“Yeah, right.” Edward snorted and Natasha laughed alongside him, leaning against him.

“Why would we wanna join the _military._ I don’t wanna kill people.”

“It ain’t about that.” The man with the slicked, black hair, Cross, spoke. “General Icacks, sir, ya mind if I explain to these _kids_ about what we stand for?”

“Go ahead, Wilbur.” Icacks said and nodded an approval to him. Immediately, Wilbur burst into action.

“Now ya see, kids, we don’t just work for the military. We’re classed as spies. We work for an organization named PEIP which stands for Paranormal Extra-terrestrial Interdimensional Phenomena. Now, ya may think, ‘what the fuck is he on about?!’ and I get it! But I’ll give ya a coupla examples on what to expect to see if we can coax ya. Me and Holly here-.”

“My name is _not_ Holly,” Holloway told them, but got ignored by Wilbur as he spoke over her.

“-just got back from a mission where we went uptown. To the Witchwoods. Let me tell ya now, there is now the snakeskin of an alien crossed with a water serpent hung up in our office. We got pictures to prove it.” He pulled out a small device and flipped it round to prove a battle scene and something that didn’t seem from Earth. “Ya eyes ain’t playin’ tricks on y’either. It’s real.”

“At the moment, our team is small. And we get that you guys haven’t left school yet, so we need to know about whether you are willing to accept the offer so we can start on your training for when you graduate.”

“I’m sold.” Matthew told the team, shrugging. “It sounds cool.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed to it…” Amber said before scrunching her face up in the thought. “Nah, fuck it. My grandma wants me to be a florist. I’ll damn well do it.”

“If she’s doing it, then I’m doing it.” Natasha smiled and looked at Edward.

“Okay, now I gotta do it.”

It left Nick, with all eyes on him. He crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes. He would _much_ rather be a cop. “Fine.” He mumbled, and there was a grin that spread across each of their faces on the other side of the table.

“We’ll be in contact shortly.”

* * *

Working for PEIP wasn’t all bad, especially under General Icacks’ and Wilbur’s mentorship. It helped Nick to figure out a lot about himself. One, that he was gay, two, he had a crush on one of the new recruits, and three, he needed to get over himself. He was sitting in the locker room after a heavy training session when Matthew walked in. Nick threw a towel over his shoulder, half dressed, and looked up to him. His face ached with tiredness, but he smiled nonetheless. “Hey, Matt.”

“Hey uh, can I talk to you?” He asked and Nick nodded. “Okay. Because I think I- well, I don’t want the others to know but, Nick…I don’t think us waking up with each other that one night was a coincidence. I think we hooked up.”

Nick stopped and ran a hand through his hair. “So, what do you wanna do about it?” He asked, the smile fading from his face.

“I just- I wanna forget about it and I can’t.”

“Yeah? Well, I managed to forget about it.”

“Look I think I’m g-“

“And so do I.” He admitted and looked at him. “I’ve got a crush on one of the new recruits, Matt. I’m sorry but if you came here to ask me out…I can’t accept it. I want to but…we’ve known each other since preschool, and it’s gonna fuck up our friendship.”

“I uh, I guess you’re right…”

“I always am.” He smiled softly and pat Matt’s back. “Look, I won’t tell anyone as long as you don’t tell anyone about me.”

“Cross my heart.” He said, and his voice had lilted slightly.

“Hope to die.” Nick finished and walked off again to finish changing.

But that wasn’t the only unusual thing that happened. He and his friends remained close, but they welcomed someone named ‘Schaffer’ into their group as well. And, apparently, Schaffer was close to the one and only John McNamara. Or, in simpler terms, the one Nick was pining for. It was a shame, really, considering the fact that when he went to speak to John, they hadn’t gotten off on good terms _at all._ He hated it.

Yet, he found himself heading towards the breakroom, as per Icacks’ request, and tapped strongly on the door. Dressed in a full uniform, he leaned against the doorframe to ensure he looked suave, which he always did. 6’ and intimidating under circumstances, he was able to bring the busying conversation to a direct halt. He watched as John rolled his eyes, but he cleared his throat anyways. “Icacks’ called a meeting. He wants us all there in twenty minutes.” After he looked at everyone to ensure the message got through, he spun around and began heading away, only to hear Schaffer’s voice speaking ‘ _his eyes are on his head.’_

The meeting could have gone so much better. Finding out he was going to do a set of missions with John McNamara over the next few _years_ as working partners pissed him off. Immediately, he packed his bag and stood at the entrance to PEIP, where Icacks and Cross were stood. When John walked through the doors, Cross immediately went to him, giving a pep talk that sounded like it’d last a century. Icacks walked over to his own mentee, Nick, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I need my mentee to come back in one piece. Keep yourself safe.”

“Yes, sir.” Nick said, and together, they saluted strongly, though Icacks’ one was more of a send-off. He started heading towards his car, and John didn’t have a choice but to sit in the passenger seat. The ride over to the building was silent, and it was until Nick started settling in at home. He broke open a bottle of whiskey, and suddenly, John started eyeing up the bottle. Nick poured him a glass, slid it over, and watched as he took it as a shot. Amazed, he looked at him. “I didn’t realise-“

“Shut the fuck up.” Came John’s reply, and Nick shrugged. At least he got straight to the point with it.

By their fourth drink, they were beginning to open up to each other. By their sixth, they were wasted and closer to each other than they had been six drinks ago. By their eighth, Nick had John pressed against a wall, hands running under his shirt in a desperate quest to get it on the floor. His touch remained gentle as he brushed John’s hair behind his ear, kissing at the pale skin, dropping John’s shirt to the floor. Once that contact wasn’t good enough, he stumbled to the bed and climbed on top of John.

Neither realised what had happened until the next morning. John had seemingly left Nick asleep, because when he woke up, he was stood by the door rubbing his head. “Hey.” The younger man said, wincing at the light in the other room. He shifted his weight on to his other foot awkwardly as Nick moved further under the covers.

“Hey.”

The wall of tension was too much. They were almost afraid to ask the words as if they were the ones that’d kill them. “Did we hook up?” John asked, and Nick shrugged.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if we did.”

“So, we’re boyfriends?” John asked, and Nick shook his head.

“Nope.”

“So, what does that make us?” John asked, his eyebrows furrowed in a perplexed state.

“I don’t know, nor do I care.” He hauled back the covers and grabbed his clothes from the night prior, slipping into them, relieved he wore sweatpants to drive in and not jeans.

“Can’t we talk about it?”

“Can’t you shut your mouth?” Nick’s hand reached for his bag where he found his aspirin. He grabbed a bottle of water he’d also packed knowing he’d get hungover and took the medicine.

“Look-“

“John.” Nick spun around, his head spinning, and he had to pause to let the nausea settle. “Fine. We can talk.”

“No, no you’re right. We- we can’t date-.”

“I’ve been staring at your ass for god knows how long. Of course we can.” He stood up and walked to him. “John. I get you’re scared, but I will kill anyone who hurts you. I promise. And nobody has to know.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Then…we’re boyfriends?”

Nick shrugged. “We’re boyfriends.”

* * *

Shortly after they got married at the age of 25, they decided to adopt a little girl. They needed someone to balance out their chaos, so they decided to search for adoption routes. They started looking last year, and the papers had gone through. John was yet to find out, though. So there lay Nick on the couch when he heard a familiar jingle of keys outside their front door. He’d been sleeping and had a book on his face which he plucked off, and he stirred awake. Remembering the news he had to share, he woke up more within seconds. He watched as John walked inside and knelt beside him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Husband.”

“Wife,” Nick teased as he leaned into the kiss.

“Step back inside the box babe.” John got off the floor and sat on the arm of the couch instead, running his hand through Nick’s hair.

“Hey, Johnny. I’m just jokin’.” He sat up a little more and looked up to John, his entire vision upside down. “How was work?”

“It was alright. I got promoted to general, we had to clear up a few more cases-.”

“I’m sorry, backtrack that a little bit.”

“We had to clear up a few cases?” He asked and furrowed his eyebrows.

Nick growled playfully and smiled. “General?”

“Oh. That. You must now refer to me as _General_ John McNamara.” He said and Nick gasped, sitting up more.

“You’re serious?!”

“I am, Colonel.”

“Oh, I hate you.”

“Is that any way to speak to your superior?”

“Oh my god, I literally hate you so much.” Nick got up off the couch and walked to the kitchen, hearing John’s voice from the other room, beginning to make coffee.

“Where are you going? To try and get promoted-?”

“Babe I’ve stopped listening!” He shouted back to him until John followed him through and hopped up on to the counter. He placed the mug in John’s hands and kissed him gently. “I’m proud of you. I love you.”

“I love you too.” John smiled and took a sip before his eyes widened. “And Eleanor?”

“Who’s Eleanor?” He asked, and John punched him.

“Nicholas Johnson-McNamara, don’t you dare-“

“The adoption papers went through, love.” He hummed and kissed the side of John’s hair. “We pick her up next week.”

“I can’t wait.” He said and placed his mug down to wrap his arms around Nick’s shoulders, and as a result, got lifted up into a hug and pulled into a kiss.

* * *

Bonding with Eleanor was hard. She looked like John but had Nick’s green eyes. At eleven years old and enrolled in Hatchetfield High, it was clear. She was also theatrical, and how Nick managed to start bonding with his daughter was he’d sit her on his knee and play the piano for her while she sang alone to some of the songs she knew. John often walked in on them like that. And until that moment, it was home.

Then July 13th, 2018 hit. Schaffer announced that a recent report of a meteor that looked to break into Earth’s atmosphere was becoming apparent and was likely to strike Hatchetfield sometime around Eleanor’s 18th birthday. Nick found it out when he walked inside the living room with John’s coffee and set it on the table only to see his husband staring blankly, drumming a rhythm on his leg. “John?” He asked and sat beside him. “What’s wrong?” He asked, breaking John out of his trance.

“There’s a meteor with an alien pathogen expected to land in Hatchetfield around the 27th of July.” He said afterwards. “And there’s nothing we can do to prevent it. Lives are gonna be lost. I’m gonna die, Elle’s gonna die, _you’re_ gonna die and- I need a cigarette.” He reached into his pocket as he rose from the couch, walking to their backyard. He lit the drug and seemingly relaxed once it was pressed to his lips.

“You know you’ll regret it later,” Nick told him as he followed him out, and John shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter at this point.”

“John…honey, you’re the smartest guy I know. You will figure out a way to stop this meteor. And even if it does hit, it won’t be the end of us.”

“It won’t always work like that.”

“And I understand, but at the end of the day, it’s an unrealistic event expected to happen.” He watched as John put the cigarette out, crushing it under his boot, before he looked to him.

“I have an instinct.”

“And your instincts are usually wrong, love.” He cupped John’s cheek and kissed his forehead. He looked into his eyes. “It’s gonna be okay, okay?”

“Okay…”

* * *

The Apotheosis came and Nick fell victim. A blade through the back that emerged through his chest was his downfall. Elle died in Hatchetfield High. After that, and once he’d received the cure, he found out a lot of new information. John, who’d attempted to fake his death while cleansing Hatchetfield of spores, knocked Nick out and then bought him home, expecting him to be fine with what happened.

Spoiler alert: he wasn’t fine.

He was angry. Infuriated. He saw red almost instantly. He grieved John for so long, figuring out ways to revive his husband only to find out the dead body PEIP had retrieved was the body of General Icacks’ son. It made no sense. John should have been more careful. He should have known what was to come after he made such a big mistake.

Afterwards, him and John could barely go a few hours without fighting. The first time Nick slapped John, John had begged for forgiveness. In a sickening way, it gave Nick a sense of adoration like he’d experienced in high school. With John on his knees, pleading for it to stop…well, he could hardly stop at just one, could he?

John called him abusive, but Nick didn’t see himself in such a manner. Since he was a little boy, he wanted to rid Hatchetfield of the negativity, of the viruses that contaminated the island and plagued the others. John was a part of the plague. He was a part of the group that was so happy, and thought he could settle back into life, but he couldn’t. Icacks had taught him that an agent shouldn’t ever spontaneously do an act of courage if not relevant to a message and expect things to return back to normal upon return. He knew John’s two father figures had been Wilbur Cross and General Icacks.

He didn’t ever realise Icacks had been Nick’s mentor, though.

John’s skin was far too pale. The blood that dripped down his skin, the tears that swarmed from his eyes and the bruises that were splotched all over him were nothing but a beautiful painting of reds, blues and purples. It portrayed his anger, how he truly felt towards the situation. How dare John think he could go back to normal after faking his death. That was a crime. _He_ was a crime.

He cried harder every night. At first, Nick had tried to convince himself that _he_ was guilty, but that thought was shut down by his beliefs. John had broken the rules, had broken himself, and now, Nick needed to break him. That was why he’d signed up for the military in the first place. He could recall how he’d been the first one to sign up for PEIP in high school. Forget whatever Matthew had tried to tell him. Matthew could fuck off and go and play his guitar or whatever, but PEIP was Nick’s ground now. It was Nick’s ground to roam on, and it was Nick’s ground to rule.

A general shouldn’t be weak. Hearing John cry so much began to get repetitive. He imagined what it would be like, to see John’s body covered in his own blood, a used knife lying beside the corpse. Maybe he’d get a picture for the memoir of it. Maybe it’d be his way of being able to access the general title sooner. PEIP would thrive under his reign. He had a set list of rules that would be abide, and if anyone chose to break them, then they’d be broken themselves. It wasn’t murder, and it wasn’t abuse. It was ridding the world of a virus.

But, locked in a jail cell, Nick realised he wasn’t escaping. So, he grabbed his gun, and he cocked the trigger, pressing the barrel to his head. Maybe this would teach John a lesson not to infect others again. Maybe he could leave him one last memory, one that would maybe kill him without the fuss. “I always said I’d kill whoever harmed you,” he said, his voice colder than steel. Three shots, each splitting through his head. The last thing he heard was John’s ear-splitting scream, but that wasn’t the point.

PEIP wouldn’t be anything without him, and neither was John. After all, fortune favours the beautiful, and John certainly wasn’t a part of that group.

**Author's Note:**

> so that was an event and a half


End file.
